


Just Want To Be Loved By You

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A little, Assault, BUT THEYRE FINE I SWEAR ITS NOT THAT BAD, Blood, Cat/Human Hybrids, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Louis, Hybrid Zayn, Hybrids, M/M, Past Abuse, Police, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, getting jumped in the woods, hurt boys lashing out but also making it work, not in a good way they're bad guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 06:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: A tap on his shoulder makes Harry jump and he turns enough to see the end of a fuzzy tail. It feels hard to breathe.Fwish, snap.Deep breaths. Come on, Harry."The fuck's wrong with you?"It's the first thing that Louis has said and Harry looks at him through the rearview mirror. "I- um, n-nothing?" His voice comes out in a squeak and he hates it."Really?" Louis' voice is higher than Harry expected it, and there's an underlying growl in what he says. "Because you're acting suspicious as hell. You always this jumpy?""N-no," Harry stammers out.Or, Harry loves Liam like a brother. Liam loves Zayn. Zayn comes with Louis. Louis doesn't trust anyone, and Harry is terrified of hybrids.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 67
Kudos: 478
Collections: 1D Hybrid Fic Fest





	Just Want To Be Loved By You

_ Hybrid Welfare. _

That’s what the sign outside says, in large block letters with the shape of cat ears sticking up above it. 

_ Finding hybrids homes since 1962. _

Harry stares at the sign. He can’t believe he’s here. He can’t believe Liam’s convinced him of this. Oh god. Is it too late to back out?

From the driver’s seat, Liam looks at the building with excitement. Harry can practically  _ see _ the sparkle in his eye. Oh yeah. This is how Liam convinced him. 

“Harry, thank you  _ so  _ much. You have no idea how much this means to me. You’ll see! You’ll love them, I swear.”

— 

It’s not that Harry hates hybrids. It really isn’t. He can see how he might give off that vibe, especially with the number of hybrid-owning friends that he’s offended over the years, but it’s totally untrue! Harry doesn’t hate hybrids. He’s just desperately afraid of them. 

So today, getting out of Liam’s CRV and standing in front of Hybrid Welfare, Harry can feel his heart ready to pound its way out of his chest. This isn’t some place he ever imagined having to set foot in, and if he had grown up with any other best friend, it probably wouldn’t have ever been an issue.

But when Harry skinned his knee on the pavement when he was six years old, and his next door neighbor came running over with his toy doctor’s kit and stuck a million plasters all over him, well his choice of best friends had been sealed in that moment. 

Now, at the age of 26 and renting a flat with him, Harry can say that he’s seen firsthand the way Liam has pined for a hybrid for years. The moon eyes he’d made when humane society commercials had played on the television. The ridiculous faces he’d make when he’d see people out walking with their hybrids (the kind of faces that mean Harry has to go over and give him a quick pinch because, Liam, please, you look like a creep). 

He’s known for a while that it would come to this. Knew it when they were picking out flats and ended up with one with a convenient extra room (which was  _ not _ easy to come by but Liam insisted they needed it). Knew it ever time Liam tried to point out to him hybrids that they passed by, every time he made a point of introducing him to all the hybrids they met at other people’s homes and work. 

Liam’s been aware since the beginning of Harry’s fears, and has tried his darndest to help him to overcome them. It hasn’t worked, like, at all. But he’s tried and Harry appreciates that. 

The nail in the coffin was two weeks ago, when a new hybrid showed up on Hybrid Welfare’s website. A man with dark hair and dark sleek ears and dark eyes absolutely stole Liam’s heart from the moment he had seen the hybrid’s picture and read his description. His name was Zayn and he had been recently abandoned by his last owners, who apparently had decided they didn’t want an  _ adult _ hybrid. Somehow it had escaped their notice that children do eventually turn into adults. 

Maybe, if that was all it was, Liam would have adopted Zayn and Harry would have been able to spend most of his time avoiding the hybrid and it would have all been fine. He would have been able to go on living a mostly normal life and maybe just spend a bit more time in his room. 

But that wasn’t all it was. Liam had come to him that first night Zayn had appeared on the website. There was an issue, he had said. Zayn was part of a pair that Hybrid Welfare insisted had to be adopted together. They had grown up together in the same house, and were abandoned together. They refused to be separated. 

“Harry,” Liam had said, all puppy dog eyes. “Please. You have to adopt him. They can share a room! Hybrids aren’t that difficult to take care of, I promise. I’ll help you.”

Hybrid Welfare, being a more reputable organization, caps the number of hybrids someone can adopt depending on their income. Liam could only afford Zayn. But if they each adopted one…

“Liam,” Harry had said. “I am fucking terrified of hybrids.”

He had known even then that he would give in eventually. There’s no one in the world Harry loves more than Liam. Liam’s mum calls them platonic soulmates. Harry’s mum calls them codependent and chides that he’ll never get a boyfriend at this rate. Harry would hang the stars for Liam. There’s no one else he would try to overcome his fear of hybrids for. 

Liam had begged and pleaded and reasoned for days. He’d pointed out all the times that Harry had interacted with hybrids, however briefly, and come out the other side unscathed. Harry had been worn down. He shouldn’t have been, probably. He should have put up more of a fight. Owning something you’re afraid of isn’t smart. No one would recommend filling your bathtub with piranhas. 

(Liam pointed out, when Harry made this argument, that hybrids are half human while piranhas are not human at all and therefore, he said, this was not a good argument). 

The moment Harry found himself giving in was when he came home, late at night, to find Liam once again staring at Zayn’s profile on his computer. He was so pathetic. Liam was always a bit pathetic but in an adorable way that would convince Harry to bring home extra cookies for him from the bakery below his work. This sort of pathetic couldn’t be solved by a cookie. 

It wouldn’t be that bad, Harry had reasoned. Overcoming fear through immersion was something all the websites he visited talked about. If this one really did turn out to be harmless, he couldn’t be afraid forever.

Or that’s what he told himself, as Liam was yelling with joy and pulling him down onto the couch next to him, pulling up the second profile, the one for the hybrid Harry was apparently going to adopt. Just someone Harry would probably spend the rest of his life with, that’s all. 

The screen loaded to a picture of a hybrid with a swoop of caramel colored hair and scruff on his cheeks. He looked serious, like he didn’t particularly care to be photographed. He looked intimidating. Harry felt his nerves rising. 

The name listed next to the picture was  _ Louis. _

**— **

The front waiting room is warm and friendly looking, with plenty of plush chairs and side tables with popular magazines. A table in the corner holds a coffee machine, water cooler and electric kettle with a wide variety of cheap tea bags to choose from. Along the walls are a number of framed photographs of people with, presumably, their new happy hybrids. It's meant to give off an air of friendliness, openness, happiness.

Harry does not feel friendly, open, or happy.

Really, he would much rather be anywhere but here. Hybrids are the third most popular pet in Britain, after dogs and cats, and many people grow up with one in the family, just another part of the home. Harry would be more than happy if he never set foot within the same room as a hybrid again. Even being near a stranger's hybrid for too long has him breaking out into a cold sweat, and now he's bringing two into his own home? 

One look at Liam's face tells him he could never do that to Liam. Liam, who has wanted his very own hybrid for as long as Harry's known him. Liam, who has a severe dog hair allergy and a fear of cats. Liam, who has been searching the database on the adoption agency's site since a week after they had gotten a flat together that allowed pets. Liam, who has fallen head over heels for a hybrid he found the day his picture went up on the database over a month ago, with the note "in processing" attached at the bottom. Liam, who has refreshed that page every day until last week when the day that little note disappeared was the day he immediately was off to the agency. Liam, with his stupid sad puppy dog eyes and toddler pout who made the poor decision to rent a flat with his best friend who had a deep fear of hybrids. Clearly, Liam has a poor choice in flatmates, but Harry can't crush his hopes now.

He’s already agreed. This will be fine. He can do this.

There's only one other group in the room with them, an elderly couple with a hybrid who looks to be no more than six or seven. If it wasn't for the little brown animal ears sticking up through the girl's curly locks, she could easily pass for being their grandchild. The cast on her arm gives Harry the feeling that she's here for the vet side of the agency, and not the adoption side.

He sits on the other side of Liam, as far from the girl as he can get. She's small and harmless and cheerful and Harry is determined to sit as far away as he can manage without looking suspicious about it.

"Liam Payne and Harry Styles," calls out the receptionist from the far side of the welcome desk. She has a no nonsense look about her and a nametag that reads Thirlwall. She gives the two of them a distrustful look as they walk up.

"You'll need to fill these out," she says, handing them both clipboards. "When you're done, Perrie will take you back and discuss proper care with you and answer any questions you have. Is that clear?"

Liam nods enthusiastically enough for the both of them. His sheet is filled out in moments (emergency contact information, payment information, it felt like Harry was filling out a sheet for the doctor's office). Harry tries to hurry through to not keep Liam waiting (Christ, he has never  _ seen _ the boy this happy), and they're soon escorted back to a conference room by Perrie, a girl with an interesting choice in dye jobs.

Perrie gives them an overview about basics such as yearly dentist and doctor visits, the importance of rabies shots, proper nutrition and getting enough sleep and exercise. It all seems like common sense to Harry. 

"Alright," Perrie says, handing them the packets of care information she's just gone over. "Now, it looks like the two of you have opted to adopt special circumstances hybrids. Good on you!" She offers a smile that Liam returns wholeheartedly. "So you'll have to expect that it'll take these guys a little longer than most to warm up to you. What we tend to find is that they won’t want much social interaction for a couple months, and will be extremely attached to one another for quite some time. Don’t be surprised if they seem a bit hostile in the beginning. Likely, they won’t trust you very much for a bit, four or five weeks is average and expected. They'll need extra love, attention, and patience." She hands them a few more packets. "And questions? Comments? Doubts?"

"No, I think we're good," Liam says before Harry can voice any doubts. He wouldn't have voiced them anyway, probably. What would he have said? I have a deep fear of hybrids, how will that impact owning one? That may seem like a deal breaker to Perrie.

"Well then, I think you're all set to go meet them. If you'll just follow me this way then," she gets up and leads them through a door toward the back of the building. They're led through hallway after hallway that look like the kind you'd find in a rather cheap motel, complete with flickering lights and carpet with a number of suspicious stains on it. When Harry feels truly lost from the number of turns they've taken (and one staircase), Perrie stops them in front of a door that looks, well, identical to all the other doors. She knocks softly and waits a few moments before pushing the door open.

The room is small (it has to be to fit so many of them in this building, Harry reasons), with a dresser, area rug, and twin bed as the only accommodations. On the twin bed, curled up around one another, are the two figures that Harry assumes they're here to see. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

"Harry, Liam," Perrie motions to them individually. "This is Zayn and Louis."

Harry recognizes Zayn immediately from the number of times Liam has shown him his picture. He's got dark skin and darker hair, smooth with tall silky black ears gracefully poking through. He looks curious and unguarded, clearly intrigued by their arrival.

Wrapped protectively around him is the other boy, who must be Louis. Where Zayn is open and welcoming, Louis is closed off. He's glaring at them and if looks could kill Harry would at least be on his way to the hospital by now. He has scruffy caramel brown hair and the matching fur on his ears (stubby in comparison to Zayn's) looks a little worse for wear. He hugs Zayn a little tighter but otherwise refuses to move or offer any sort of greeting.

Liam walks up and offers a hand to shake, seemingly completely oblivious to the "fuck off" vibes that Louis is clearly giving off.

"Hello!" he says brightly. "I'm Liam."

Even standing behind him, Harry can tell Liam is giving his best 'harmless puppy' look to the two of them. It clearly works for Zayn, who gives a soft smile back and reaches up a hand back to shake Liam's. It's only hindered a little by Louis's arm wrapped around his own, and if Liam notices he doesn't say anything.

"You guys ready to go?" Liam asks. "I think we've got all the necessary paperwork covered, so if you're up for it, I don't see any reason to wait around here instead of getting the two of you moved in."

Harry's really glad Liam has taken it upon himself to do the talking, because words have clearly escaped him.

Perrie starts giving last minute explanations to Liam and Harry of things she says she forgot to mention earlier, but Harry's not really paying attention. He's watching Louis and Zayn as they untangle themselves from the bed in order to follow them. Zayn seems extremely laid back, and a little sleepy (which wouldn't be out of the ordinary, hybrids tend to sleep a lot more than humans), but Louis seems constantly on the alert. He always needs to be watching Zayn or connected to him in one way or another. He keeps glaring over in Harry and Liam's direction, and once in a while whispers in Zayn's ear. Whatever he's saying is easily waved off by Zayn ruffling his hair or giving his wrist a quick squeeze, but it doesn't look like it does much to assuage whatever Louis' fears are.

And Harry thinks, that's his hybrid. Somehow, he's supposed to make sure that being is kept healthy and happy. He doesn't know how he's supposed to do this.

As they walk out Liam offers Zayn a hand to hold but isn't at all annoyed when Zayn declines (and Louis glares). Leaving the building with enough informational packets to fill a book, Liam leads them with a confident gait up to the CRV. He tries to offer Zayn shotgun but Louis has a firm grip on his bicep and pulls him toward the backseat, leaving Liam and Harry to take the front.

The ride isn't a particularly long one, but driving is driving Harry  _ crazy _ because he keeps seeing twitching ears and swishing tails out of the corner of his eye and feels himself go rigid. It's ridiculous, really. Zayn is clearly harmless, and while he's not sure about Louis yet, they wouldn't have sold a potentially dangerous hybrid, right?

Right.

He keeps sneaking glances to the backseat just in case.

Louis has once again wrapped himself around Zayn, who looks like he's actually fallen asleep at this point (one glance at Liam confirms this, the way his melty heart eyes are so apparent as he tries to pretend he hasn’t been looking). Louis is still alert though, maybe he always is.

Harry tries to pay attention to the road, pay attention to the music, pay attention to anything besides the two boys in the backseat because he's probably going to scare them by looking back and staring at them continually. That's weird. Don't do that. Concentrate on the road.

A tap on his shoulder makes him jump and he turns enough to see the end of a fuzzy tail. It feels hard to breathe.

_ Thwip-CRACK. _

Deep breaths. Come on, Harry.

"The fuck's wrong with you?"

It's the first thing that Louis has said and Harry looks at him through the rearview mirror. "I- um, n-nothing?" His voice comes out in a squeak and he hates it.

"Really?" Louis' voice is higher than Harry expected it, and there's an underlying growl in what he says. "Because you're acting suspicious as hell. You always this jumpy?"

"N-no," Harry stammers out.

— 

One time on his way home from class in primary school, Harry came across a fluffy tomcat with piercing blue eyes lounging on the front steps of a house he passed by. It was a beautiful cat that absolutely captured his attention, and in hopes of luring him over, Harry had rifled through the leftovers in his lunchbox until he came up with a quarter of a tuna fish sandwich.

Holding out his offering in front of him and hunching over until his knees almost touched the sidewalk, he inched forward slowly in an attempt not to scare the animal off.

He can still remember the way the cat had arched his back as he rose from the sidewalk and watched Harry with wide, unblinking eyes. At some point in his timid journey forward, Harry must have crossed some invisible threshold because suddenly the cat was upon him.

He was even more beautiful up close, soft brown fur and sky blue eyes that reflected the world but suddenly he was so much more terrifying, and the claws that drew blood from his fingers and caused him to drop the leftover lunch seemed so much sharper than Harry would ever have thought.

The cat was gone again as fast as he had come, a swish of his tail as he disappeared under a hedge. He left Harry with an empty lunchbox, a bleeding hand, and a broken heart.

— 

Harry learns within the first week not to give Louis food by hand. He's determined now, to make this work, to give Louis a chance to be just as loved and cared for as Zayn is, but through plaster-covered fingers he realises he needs to start slow.

The first night he heats up a cup of milk for Louis before bed. They've been watching a Paul Hollywood marathon, Harry and Liam on the ends of the couch, Zayn laying across the floor with a lazily flicking tail and half-lidded eyes, and Louis sitting next to him with one hand carding through his hair.

"Louis," Harry says softly as he pads over in bare feet with the steamy mug in his hands.

Louis' head whips around and he stares at Harry, his eyes shifting between Harry's face and the mug in his hand.

Harry flinches under his glare a little, but takes a deep breath. "I-I made you, um. Here."

Louis eyes the mug, and sniffs the air in front of it. Then, in a split second, Harry is in secondary school again, and his hands are empty and his fingers scratched, red welts already raising around his knuckles.

He sucks in a ragged breath and stumbles backward. Louis is turned back to the telly as if nothing happened, holding the mug to his lips with both hands.

Liam tears his eyes from the television (or is it from Zayn?). "You okay?" he mouths, clearly having missed it.

Harry nods, sinking into the couch, cradling one hand to his chest. Louis doesn't look behind him for the rest of the night, although he finishes the milk.

— 

The next day is Sunday and Harry has a midmorning shift at the bakery. Liam, lazy bastard that he is, probably won’t be awake until ten at the earliest, and as Harry passes the guest room, he can see through the crack between the door and the wall that Zayn and Louis are still fast asleep, wrapped around each other.

He silently rejoices at his chance at a deserted kitchen, and spends the entire time he's in the shower debating what he should make for breakfast.

He settles on omelettes, and hooks up his iPod to the tiny speakers in the kitchen, turning to his Baking playlist and setting the volume level on low.

For himself, Harry mixes in a handful of vegetables leftover from a stir fry earlier in the week (which had used the vegetables from a veggie pizza a few days before that).

He questions for a moment whether to make Louis an omelette as well. He's still asleep and Harry doesn't really want to try to disturb him, but on the other hand, Harry won’t be home again until three, and while he did mention to Louis that he can take anything from the refrigerator, he doesn't want the boy to think he was forgotten about.

Which feels like a stretch. Louis clearly doesn't like Harry, would probably rather be left alone if it comes right down to it.

But then again, Harry has adopted him, has a responsibility to him. So he rifles through the fridge until he comes up with some bacon to add to an omelette for Louis,

With a plated omelette in one hand and mug of milk on the other, he makes his way to the guest-cum-hybrid room.

"Lou," he whispers, placing the mug of milk on the bedside table.

Zayn stirs enough to pull the blanket up over himself until only his ears are sticking out. Louis' eyes snap open and his ears flatten down into his hair, a low growl just barely loud enough for Harry to catch emanating from his throat.

_ Fwip-CRACK. _

Harry flinches and has to stop himself from visibly shaking, every bone in his body telling him to run, get out of there now.

"H-here," he gets out, holding the plate out to Louis. He should have expected the pain that blooms on the back of his hand as Louis swipes the plate, he's clearly clawing Harry on purpose at this point. All Harry can think, though, is getting out, getting away, which is why he finds himself locked in the bathroom less than a minute later splashing cool water on his face and trying to steady his breathing.

He goes to work ten minutes late with an empty stomach - having completely forgotten about his own omelette - and a newly bandaged hand. His co-worker Niall asks about it and Harry makes up a lie about burning it when he was making muffins on Saturday.

— 

Harry learns to set down plates and mugs in front of Louis instead of handing them directly to him. Louis looks smug.

— 

Over the next two weeks, Harry watches a friendship blossom between Liam and Zayn. While Zayn was never outright hostile toward Liam, he had spent a number of days observing all his movements from a distance (this distance normally placing Zayn on a small blanket nest on the floor in front of the radiator, which has become his self-proclaimed spot in the living room).

Liam is nothing if not persistent. He has nothing but patience and gentle smiles for Zayn, and it’s so easy to see the way Zayn opens up to him in response. He doesn’t speak much, but that’s not uncommon among hybrids. He clearly enjoys Liam’s presence though, seeking him out when he arrives home from work and basking in sun puddles nearby. 

Louis, on the other hand, is just as hostile as the day Harry met him. 

Liam was right, getting to know a hybrid who clearly means him no harm has been good for Harry. Zayn has offered up a handful of smiles when he sees Harry, and Harry is nothing if not grateful for them. He’s been able to turn his back on Zayn without feeling like he’s being stalked, and it’s nice. It’s not totally comfortable, but it’s a major improvement.

But for every step forward he’s taken in terms of feeling secure around Zayn, he’s felt less secure around Louis. 

Legally, Harry  _ owns _ Louis. Of course, it’s a sort of arcane concept, as study after study has shown hybrids to be just as intelligent and self aware as humans, but it’s one that persists around the world (except Germany, where hybrids have all the same rights as humans). 

But, while in every legal sense Louis is a pet to Harry, in every  _ real _ sense Louis seems to be harboring a hatred for Harry that’s kept Harry from so much as being in the same room as Louis without a barrier of at least Liam or Zayn between them.

Louis doesn’t speak to him. He speaks to Zayn, exclusively, in hushed tones that reminds Harry of himself and Liam when they were children, sharing the world with each other before anyone else. He’s glad Louis has someone he doesn’t hate, but at the same time he’d very much like to be included in that list, it would make his life a lot less stressful. 

It’s become a habit to put meals in front of Zayn and Louis’ door when he knows Louis is inside, and come back later to collect the plate. He’s done the same with a few articles of clothing, because Louis came with a small case of old and worn clothes and surely he’d like something new and more comfortable, but while the clothing disappeared, it’s apparently never left that room, as Harry’s never seen any of the jumpers again. 

So, it’s an uncomfortable existence and Harry’s found himself spending more time stopping at coffee shops and out with friends rather than come home and risk Louis’s wrath. It’s never more than a few scratches, but they’re scratches that send Harry on a mental spiral for hours, and he’d rather feel safe in public than unsafe at home.

— 

When Harry was a small child he loved hybrids. He was fascinated by their ears and tails, by the fact that they were just different enough that they got to stay home all day if they wanted, the way they gracefully moved from room to room and the way they seemed so mysterious, so not-quite-human. 

When Harry turned eight, his parents hit a lucky break in the insurance business. A big promotion for his dad that meant he was almost never around, but that the family was suddenly able to spend a lot more on vacations, furniture, and other expensive things that his mum found to furnish their home. 

One of those things was a hybrid. 

Legally, hybrids don’t have to work. While they are considered able to be owned like any other domestic animal, they also legally cannot be forced to work. 

Of course, there were ways to get around this.

One way was to adopt and own a hybrid, but to offer them  _ extras _ in return for “minimal labor of various forms”, which the government probably said in the hopes of larger living quarters, trips, or other actually fancy things. 

But if you were rich enough, the government didn’t care enough to check, and so among a certain sect of the population, hybrid servants became commonplace.

The servant that Harry’s parents adopted (or really, purchased) was named Arthur. He was an old, stooped cat hybrid with silvery hair and silvery ears and eyes that watched Harry like a hawk. For as cordial as he was while Harry’s parents were around, when they left Harry found himself at Arthur’s mercy. 

_ Thwip-CRACK _ would go Arthur’s tail, quick as a whip, if Harry stepped a foot out of line. His tail was long and thin and the silver fur was patchy at best.  _ Thwip-CRACK.  _ It stung like hell against Harry’s arms, his legs, his hands. If he took one biscuit too many, or was underfoot while Arthur was cleaning, or, as time went on, if he even was in the same room as Arthur.

_ Thwip-CRACK.  _ Welts, red and raised, would appear from time to time but Arthur would explain them away. Harry fell against the burner, poor lad. He tripped over the hose while they were playing in the garden, clumsy child.

His parents never believed him. Arthur kept the house spotless. He was too good to consider letting go. When he passed away almost ten years into their service, Harry breathed a guilt-ridden sigh of relief. But he couldn’t bear to go near another hybrid. The sound echoed in his mind, the phantom pain on his skin. 

— 

“Games night,” Liam says when Harry arrives home. “It’s games night Harry, and you’re not allowed to go running off again.”

“I haven’t gone running off anywhere,” Harry says petulantly, putting down his bag. He absolutely has been running off. But it’s dinner time. “Do you know if Louis has eaten?”

Zayn, laying in his spot under the window, opens his eyes at the mention of Louis’ name.

“I don’t think so,” Liam says. “Zayn and I haven’t eaten yet.”

Harry nods, heading off to the kitchen. 

“Games night!” Liam yells. “Yeah? You promised!”

“Soup for the group, Liam!” Harry yells back. Harry did promise, in that it’s a longstanding tradition and he simply doesn’t miss games night. It’s not board games, or card games, or anything like that. Games night is when Liam plays video games - very badly - and Harry watches and laughs at him. Sometimes he’ll even help him through the levels, but it’s rare. 

Games night is, for all intents and purposes, the best night of the week. 

Searching through the pantry, Harry grabs two cans of soup base and a handful of seasonings (a handful is about seven, if he’s careful how he stacks them). 

_ Soup for the group _ is what Harry has begun calling the soup he makes on game night. Generally he’d already have something in the slow cooker by now, but he had to drag himself out of bed this morning and it just didn’t happen. 

So he goes for something simple, emptying soup base and spices into a pot on the hob, before opening the refrigerator to find anything else to dump in. Rooting through old takeout, he stumbles upon half an onion, two peppers, and italian sausage. It might be gross but it’ll probably be good. Liam, at least, isn’t picky. Zayn’s generally polite even if he doesn’t like it. Louis, as far as Harry can tell, has never outright hated anything he’s made, although he always leaves the crusts from sandwiches on the plate. 

Getting it all up to a boil, Harry leans against the countertop and picks at his nails absentmindedly, happy to be home and not thinking about inane work things any longer.

“How much longer?” Liam asks, coming into the kitchen and looking with interest at the pot. 

“Probably ten minutes,” Harry says. “What are we playing?”

“Super Mario Galaxy,” Liam says. “I’m stuck.”

Liam’s always stuck. It’s the whole point of game night. 

Harry huffs a laugh. “Do you want help?”

“Absolutely not,” Liam says. “I can definitely do it, I just need to go slower.”

“Sure you do,” Harry laughs. He stirs the pot, the strong smell of spices wafting out of it. “I’m going to go get the dishes left in the living room. Will you keep this from burning?”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Liam says, taking the spoon tentatively as if it might give him an electric shock.

Harry rolls his eyes, a smile on his face. “I know.”

“Harry,” Liam says, already sounding frantic as Harry leaves the room. “Haz? How do I know when to stir it?”

While Harry had been making soup, apparently Louis had migrated to the living room. He’s laying across the armchair by the window, tail flicking lazily in the dying light. Suddenly feeling nervous, Harry hurries to grab the plates and glasses that have been left around from various meals the last couple days. He can feel Louis’ eyes on him, doesn’t want to get too close, except There’s a glass just in front of the chair. 

He’ll just get the glass last and get out of there. It’ll be fine. Hands full of a stack of plates and utensils sliding dangerously across the top, Harry all but closes his eyes as he gets close enough to Louis to grab the glass— 

_ Thwip-CRACK _

It’s Louis’ tail. Not hard, not like Arthur’s was. He barely grazes Harry, likely wasn’t even meaning to actually touch him. All the same Harry’s heart stops. He drops everything. A mess of plates and glasses and old food. One glass shatters.

Harry stands there, frozen, tears in his eyes. It’s when Liam rushes in to see what happened that Harry realises Louis’ run for it, disappeared. 

— 

Zayn has never talked much to Harry, which is absolutely fine by Harry of course, but he’s started to notice that Zayn almost never shuts up around Liam. 

It’s cute, even Harry can admit that. Zayn is apparently a  _ huge _ nerd, and the two of them have been going to the library multiple times a week getting stacks of graphic novels out and reading them while propped up against each other, giggling and showing each other pages and swapping when they’re done.

Well, it’s disgusting. But it’s also cute. 

Louis, to his credit, hasn’t been as bad lately. He’s been a little sulky, from what Harry can tell. Staying in their room on his own while Zayn hangs out with Liam. It makes Harry feel a little bit better knowing that it’s not just himself that Louis can’t seem to stand, but he also feels a little guilty. He can’t offer Louis comfort - because Louis would immediately reject it - but he does hope he’s not miserable. 

Who knew owning a hybrid would be so emotionally difficult?

It’s a crisp and windy Saturday morning and Zayn and Liam are once again smushed together on the couch, swapping copies of Batman comics and making low, rough Batman voices at each other between giggles. Harry’s just walked in the door after his run, sweaty and gross because he’s trying to work himself up to marathon lengths. Shucking off his shoes at the door, Liam looks over the back of the couch at him, looking absolutely pleased as punch.

“Harry!” he says. “Zayn and I have something to tell you!”

Zayn looks over at him too, in that chilled way that he does everything. He looks quietly pleased next to Liam’s excitement.

“Oh yeah?” Harry asks, pulling off his socks even though he knows his feet are going to stink. People will live.

“Yeah!” Liam eyes Zayn, maybe asking permission to share whatever it is he’s going to tell, and then looks back at Harry. “I just asked Zayn to be my boyfriend, and he said yes!”

Harry blinks, brain catching up with him. “Ah- that’s great, Liam! And Zayn. Good for you!”

They do look happy, and honestly it was only a matter of time. Harry’s a little apprehensive considering he’s a bit worried about losing Best Friend status, and he’s trying to find a not-pathetic way of saying so when Louis comes flying through the room, fast enough Harry jumps to flatten himself against the wall, worried he’s about to be attacked by cat claws, he goes right past Harry, wrenching the door open with a bang and disappearing through it.

_ “Shit,” _ Harry says, a hand on his heart as it beats erratically. “Fuck- where is he going?”

Hybrids can’t be out without a collar denoting their owners. If they’re unlucky they get picked up by the police. If they’re  _ really _ unlucky they get claimed by someone worse. Louis has a collar, Harry knows he bought him one, but he’s never seen him use it, and doubts he’s wearing it now.

“What happened?” Liam asks, not having gotten up from the couch, but completely turned around on it to face Harry now. “Was he wearing his collar?”

“I don’t think he was,” Harry says. “Shit.” He begins pulling his socks back on, gross as they are. “I have to go after him. I don’t know why he did that!”

The idea of running  _ after _ Louis, not knowing why he bolted, is a terrifying one, but. Louis has to be safe. Harry may be apprehensive around him but he does care about him.

“I think it’s my fault,” Zayn says, voice quiet.

“What?” Harry asks, looking at him.

“I just—“ Zayn’s ears flatten into his hair. “I’ve been kind of ignoring him. Or not spending as much time with him. Because he refuses to leave our room sometimes and I just, you know.” He shrugs, looking down. “Wanna spend time with Liam.”

“Aww, babe,” Liam puts an arm around him.

Harry slips back into his running shoes. “Well I’m pretty sure he hates me,” he says. “So I’m risking my life to get him back. Maybe spend some more time with him when I do.”

He leaves without hearing a response, thinking he’ll probably have to apologise when he gets back, and heads down the way that he’s pretty sure he saw Louis going. 

Christ that was a bitchy thing to say, wasn’t it? Harry’s not sure if he said that because he’s jealous of Zayn getting Liam’s attention, or for the sake of coming to Louis’ defence. After all, Hybrid Welfare had been very clear that they were a bonded pair, and while it may be that Louis had relied on that bond more than Zayn did, that had clearly meant something, and for Zayn to be disregarding his needs felt incredibly mean. Everyone knew hybrids sought out affection, and Louis clearly wasn’t going to go elsewhere for it. 

Jogging down the street, Harry almost immediately feels completely unsure as to whether or not he’s going in the right direction. God, he does hope Louis went this way and they’re not getting further apart. He should have gone for his car. Why didn’t he do that?

He can see someone far in front of him that  _ might  _ be Louis, and when they break off to the left Harry marks the spot. There’s enough people on this street that it could just be a passing jogger, or a hooligan doing hooligan things with a can of spraypaint, as the news is constantly complaining about. 

Having just finished his jog, Harry finds himself fatigued after only a few minutes, his lungs burning from a flat out run that his body did not ask for. When Harry reaches the spot where the person in front of him turned off, he doubles over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. 

It’s the entrance to the neighborhood rose park, that has a small playground in the middle and a community building that serves overpriced hot drinks. 

Mid-morning on a Saturday it’s filled with young families and elderly people strolling about, but, as Harry starts running again (and  _ god _ is he going to be sore tomorrow) he catches sight of the figure that he’s now pretty sure is Louis, tail whipping behind himself as he heads around the back of the community building toward the small patch of trees. 

“Louis!” Harry yells, startling a family, who turn to stare at him. They give him unappreciative looks. 

Lungs burning, Harry rounds the community building and finds Louis, to his horror, sprawled out on his stomach, three much larger hybrids surrounding him. 

Harry freezes. That familiar, terrifying  _ thwip - CRACK _ echoing in his mind. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he’s only just gotten used to the hybrids in his house, and even the one he sees every day has left still visible scratches down his arms. His blood runs cold and his heartbeat pounds like a ragged animal’s. He can’t— They’re clearly not friendly, clearly strays that have survived on the streets for this long. They’d eat him alive. 

Like they’ll eat Louis alive. 

Sure, Louis can scare the shit out of Harry on a daily basis, but he’s… tiny. And he’s  _ Harry’s. _ For all that Harry might dread interacting with him, he’s taken responsibility for him, and he’s seen firsthand how little Louis has in the world. He has Zayn, who he cares for more than anything (and thinking of Liam, Harry can relate to that), and he has a past that’s clearly caused him pain. He deserves time to heal, and Harry’s giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s still in that healing time. He’s not the scary monster that Harry’s brain makes him out to be. He’s self protective and small and scared. Harry watches as Louis scrambles to get up and one of the hybrids - a dog with ragged blond hair and a dirty camouflage jacket - stops him with one foot on his back, pushing him to the ground. 

“Louis!” Harry yells again, voice hoarse with fear, this time hoping that the mere presence of a human will scare them off. 

It doesn’t. 

The three hybrids turn to look at him. Not one of them seem to bat an eye. The shortest of them - a girl with dark cat ears and a cropped tail - smirks. Harry takes a step back. 

“Fuck off,” he yells. There’s a good ten meters between them but it doesn’t feel like a particularly long distance. He has no idea how to intimidate them. Knows the fear is clear in his voice. 

They do, miraculously, leave Louis alone. But it’s only because the three of them take a step towards him. Harry finds a distinct memory flashing through his mind of dropping his phone on the table by the door when he got home from his run, so that’s not an option. No wallet for them to steal which is nice for his credit cards, but means he has nothing to distract what he assumes is essentially a group of muggers. 

He backs up another step but being stalked by three hybrids just on the deserted side of a building gives him little option. Any minute now they’ll jump - and there’s no way he can outrun someone with animal DNA. He curses his decision to train up endurance instead of speed. 

There’s also a good chance he’ll faint, though, considering the way he’s feeling right about now. So there’s that.

Focusing behind the hybrids, though, Harry sees Louis, who’s rolled over and is getting up. Good, okay. Louis can run. They’ve totally left him, won’t even notice if he takes off. Harry locks eyes with him, and tries to convey in some wordless state that he should take off. Louis doesn’t seem to get the message, though, just stares back at him. If Harry ends up being attacked by the four stray hybrids  _ and his own _ , he’s going to have a few choice words with God when he dies. 

Taking one more step back, Harry tries to fake out the hybrids - who are virtually on top of him now, letting out low growls deep in their throats - taking one step right before trying to turn and run in the opposite direction, back towards the other side of the building in the hopes of getting inside. 

He doesn’t get two steps out before he’s on the ground.

_ Thwip- CRACK. _

There’s pain in his sides and claws on his back and Harry can’t honestly make out much. He feels himself scream, and he tries to roll into a ball, hands over his head. He isn’t quite sure what happens after that, other than blooming pain all over and loud growls, shrieks above him. 

It’s a relief when he gives in to darkness. 

— 

When Harry comes to, he’s still on the ground. 

There’s someone over him, blocking out the sun, and the first thing Harry does is shrink back, tensing up and expecting to be clawed at again, but the person is shushing him and saying things in a soothing voice that Harry can’t really make out. Something about  _ it’s okay, _ and  _ checking for broken bones. _

He puts a hand to his face and groans, feeling pain shoot up his arm. There’s grass and dirt and blood on his hand, although thankfully more of the former.

“Where are they?” Harry asks, his voice a croak. 

“The hybrids?” the man asks. “Most of them took off for the woods when we showed up. One of them wouldn’t leave you alone though, so he’s with the police officers over there. 

The man, Harry realises, is an emergency responder of some sort. He’s wearing a uniform. It’s very official. 

Turning his head where he pointed, Harry sees two policemen standing outside of a patrol car, with a hybrid bent over the hood, hands cuffed behind his back. 

It’s not one of the three who attacked him. 

_ “Shit,” _ Harry says, and god his mother would be ashamed of him, he’s never had suck a dirty mouth. He sits up, feeling dizzy as soon as he does, and feels pain of various levels in different parts of his body. “No, I have to— that’s not one of them, that’s Louis-”

“Don’t stand up,” the responder says, trying to motion for Harry to stay down. 

Harry doesn’t listen, scrambling up and gritting his teeth as he discovers a blossoming pain in his right leg. Louis must be - he must be so scared. 

“Hey!” He yells at the officers as the emergency responder stands up with him, saying something about how this is very bad and he shouldn’t be doing this. 

The two officers look over at him as Harry hobbles over. “Please-” Harry says, short of breath as he stumbles over to them. “That’s not— he’s with me.”

The two officers give him unimpressed looks. Harry can’t see Louis’ face but he can see his tail, the way it’s poofed up and wrapped between his legs, and a few gashes down his arms stand out on his lightly tanned skin. 

“He was the only one of the four who wasn’t smart enough to make a run for it,” one officer tells Harry gruffly. “Wouldn’t get off of you no matter what we did, wouldn’t stop growling either.”

Harry’s stomach drops. Why didn’t Louis make a run for it? “He’s mine,” he says. “He wasn’t- those other three were strays.”

“Isn’t wearing a collar,” the other officer interjects. “Looks to me like he’s just an idiot stray that wasn’t fast enough.”

Harry’s in a lot of pain right now and would kill for something,  _ anything _ to drink. He is not in the mood for this. “That’s why I was here,” he grits out. “He forgot his collar when he left and when I realised that I went looking for him. I live two streets over from here. Do you want to come all the way home with me to find my documentation? Because I’m pretty sure I’m bleeding from a number of different places and I don’t know why I’d be defending someone after they stuck their claws in me like a kebab.”

The first officer grunts. “See to it that it doesn’t happen again,” he says. “Hybrids can’t be out without collars. It’s the law.”

Harry doesn’t respond. Just stands and waits as the officers apparently decide this isn’t fight isn’t worth their time, and the second goes to unlock the handcuffs around Louis’ wrists. 

“We see him out here without a collar again, he’s going to the pound,” the second one says. 

The second the handcuffs are off Louis he seems to deflate, stumbling to his knees before scrambling back up and over to Harry. He stands, arms around his middle and tail between his legs, with his eyes steadfastly downcast. 

“Thank you,” Harry says, voice clipped. He turns back to where he left the other man in the grass, near the community building, and locates him near an emergency vehicle. “I want to get your scratches checked out,” Harry says quietly to Louis, but loud enough that he can hear because Harry’s not stepping any closer to him without Louis’ permission. “Then we can go home, okay?”

Louis nods, and Harry walks in that direction, hoping he follows. He’s pretty sure it’s the adrenaline coursing through his system making him act like a real adult, because Harry sure as hell can’t think of another time he’s  _ told _ Louis to do something. 

The emergency responder - whose nametag reads Lewis, looks exasperated, and immediately starts lecturing Harry about how he shouldn’t have stood up without being properly looked over. He doesn’t bat an eye over Harry making him examine a hybrid first though, and after a few plasters and disinfectant (that makes Louis wince terribly), pronounces Louis with a clean bill of health. 

Harry, on the other hand, is given instructions to get an x-ray for his arm because there’s a good chance it’s at least fractured. Coming down off of his adrenaline spike, that doesn’t sound that far out of the realm of possibility, but Harry just wants to get home first. When Lewis gives them permission to leave, Louis follows wordlessly behind Harry, close enough that Harry has to force himself to take deep breaths as he walks because Louis’ so close it makes him incredibly nervous, like being stalked by an overconfident cat. 

But Louis also still won’t look at him. 

When they get home, Zayn and Liam are still on the couch. They both look immensely relieved and then a moment later even more worried, and when Harry takes a look in the hallway mirror he can’t really blame them. He looks a right wreck.

“What happened?” Liam squeaks out, jumping up and coming over to them as Harry, once again, toes off his shoes. 

Louis stands behind him, leaning against the door and not making a run for his room or his spot on the chair like he normally does. 

“Just a bit of a fight with some strays,” Harry says. “And two douchey police officers. Liam, I’m thirsty as fuck and I don’t know what happened to my water bottle, can you get me a glass?”

“Sure,” Liam says, his eyebrows knitted together and his expression altogether one of concern and  _ I don’t know how to ask why you look like hell. _

Before he actually makes a move to the kitchen, though, Louis streaks past him. Harry thinks he’s probably headed to his room (and Zayn follows him), but he returns almost immediately with a full glass of water.

“Uh- thank you,” Harry says, reaching out with the arm that doesn’t have a possible sprain. He chugs it, feeling immediate relief.

Louis still doesn’t look at him, but he doesn’t leave either. Zayn stands with him, looking uncertain. 

“I need more details,” Liam says, concern written on his face. Zayn looks at him with equal concern, and then back at Louis, and back at him. Harry feels very much on the spot and, as the adrenaline is clearly gone now, absolutely exhausted. “I’m going to be honest,” he says. “I’m disgusting and exhausted so I might just take a shower. Can we rain check that?”

“I’ll be here,” says Liam. Zayn nods. His tail is gently wrapped around Louis’ hip. Harry feels worried about Louis. He hopes Zayn’s not going to leave his side for a while, because he doesn’t know what Louis needs and maybe Zayn will. 

— 

A hot shower is usually heaven on his aching muscles, but the burn of scrapes and scratches that Harry is continually discovering is a bit off-putting. Still, he luxuriates until the bath is so steamy he can barely see his feet, then spends a good ten minutes after drying off applying plasters. They’re probably not necessary, but Harry’s always hated the feeling of cuts rubbing against things, so he’s been a liberal plaster user. 

Then he heads across the hall to his bedroom. As he does so, he does take note of the fact that Louis is sitting at the doorway of his own room, watching Harry as he goes. 

He doesn’t have the mental capacity to process the fact that Louis’ not locked away in his room, though. He’s too tired. Collapsing on his bed face down in only his towel, Harry falls asleep in seconds. 

— 

When Harry wakes up, he finds that he’s drooled all over his sheets and his hair has dried in all crazy sorts of directions. 

There’s a stiffness in his joints as he sits up, and an aching that makes him think he should have taken paracetamol for the pain. He can’t have been asleep more than an hour or two but he can see the bruises starting to bloom on his skin, pretty much all over.

After a few minutes of properly waking himself up, Harry starts going over the situation in his mind and lands on Louis. He must have been so scared today, it makes Harry’s stomach plummet just thinking about it. He hopes he’s okay. 

It makes Harry wonder if Louis wouldn’t be better off with someone else. Maybe if he had been adopted by someone who wasn’t so naturally terrified of hybrids, he wouldn’t have been constantly lashing out against them. 

Groaning a little, Harry sits up, trying to brush his hair into something less of a rat’s nest with his fingers. He doesn’t notice until he looks around that he’s not alone in his room. 

Louis is there, by the door, sitting cross legged on the carpet and watching him, expression unreadable.

Harry jumps a little, caught off guard. “Uh,” he says. For just a moment the idea that Louis really was with the strays and is there to finish him off flashes through his head, but even in the moment he recognizes this as ridiculous. “Can I help you?”

Louis ducks his head a little, eyelashes fanning out on his cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asks. He’s so rarely spoken to Harry that it feels almost concerning to hear him ask. 

“A little sore,” Harry says. It’s not quite an honest answer - he’s in a fair amount of pain. But it doesn’t seem like the right time to be saying that. “Could be worse, I’ll be okay.”

Louis nods, but he doesn’t move to leave. 

“Are… are you okay?” Harry asks. 

Louis doesn’t move. He looks very small. Harry waits, unsure whether the situation will turn negative, but after what feels like ages Louis shakes his head, ducking his head further into his chest. 

“You’re not— what’s wrong?” Harry asks, immediately on alert. “Do you need to go to A&E? You should’ve told Liam, he would’ve taken you! Are you in pain?”

Louis shakes his head again, ears flat against his hair. Then Harry hears him draw a strangled gasp before he starts full on sobbing, collapsing in on himself. Harry scrambles off of his bed, grabbing his towel in one hand so that he doesn’t end up totally naked, and rushes over to him, kneeling just far enough away that they’re not accidentally touching. His mind is racing - what does he do? What does Louis need? 

“Louis—” Harry says, voice frantic. “You have to help me, are you physically hurt? What can I do?”

Louis, in what is the biggest shock to Harry today out of everything that has happened so far, launches himself at Harry. Harry freezes up, terrified, but Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders, clinging to him and crying into his neck, tears cold as they fall against his skin. 

Harry might actually die of a heart attack today still. 

He hesitantly brings his arms up around Louis, first to steady him and then to embrace him. It feels like a trap but Harry works to bring that thought under control. Louis was hurt today. 

They exist like that for a while. 

When Louis speaks, it takes a minute for Harry to understand. 

“I was scared,” is what he says. Quiet.

“I was too,” Harry says slowly. 

“You were hurt because of me,” Louis says. 

“I…” Harry pauses. “I was hurt because they wanted to hurt me. Not because of you.”

“I was so scared they were going to take me,” Louis says. And then, quieter still, “Please don’t let them take me.”

Harry tightens his hold on Louis just a little. Looking back, he marvels that he wasn’t more freaked out at the sight of Louis laying against that police car. Likely it was the shock of everything. “I won’t,” he says. “But you have to wear your collar.”

Louis nods and Harry can feel tears and possibly snot smeared against him. “It was an accident,” he says. 

“Why did you run?” Harry asks, and he feels like he’s pushing his luck but Louis hasn’t closed off yet.

Louis takes longer this time. “Zayn hadn’t told me…” he whispers. “About him and Liam, I mean.”

Harry nods. “That makes sense,” he says. He hadn’t been run-out-the-door mad but as the other friend in the mix he could understand wanting to be told before anything actually transpired. 

“I just had to get out,” Louis continues. “He’s my… Zayn’s my safe person and I felt... betrayed.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes. Louis is warm in his arms. “Do you… am I unsafe?”

Louis is quiet for a long time. “Not now,” he says eventually. 

“Oh,” says Harry.

They sit there like that for a long time. 

— 

Harry is genuinely surprised when things don’t return to normal. 

Louis gets up and leaves eventually and Harry figures that’ll be the end of it. He spills what happened to Liam later that on that day, because there’s no way Liam would let him get away with  _ not, _ and Liam insists that he should be going to the police about it. Harry doesn’t, though, he worries about the repercussions for Louis. It’s not often that he’s forced to confront the fact that society is so unfair to hybrids, but he  _ had _ been out without a collar, breaking the law, and Harry doesn’t want to do anything to accidentally put him in jeopardy.

Zayn and Louis seem to make up, if the fact that they disappear into their room together for a good day and a half is anything to go by. Harry automatically goes back to leaving Louis’ food in front of the door, assuming that whatever shock has passed and Louis will soon be back to his usual intimidating self. It feels different now, in that Harry feels a little less afraid of Louis. Not of all hybrids, but of Louis. And that’s good enough. It’s a small change, but Louis is the one who depends on him so in the end that’s all that matters, really. 

But then, Monday morning, as Harry’s making breakfast before leaving for work, Louis appears in the kitchen. 

Louis is not a morning person, and Harry has never before seen him up this early. He looks it this morning too, hair rumpled and eyes squinting in the light of the kitchen. 

Harry freezes in his movements, mixing eggs and peppers for an omelette, eyes on Louis as he shuffles into the room. But Louis doesn’t say anything. He sits on the floor (as he often does, in any room of the house), and looked up at Harry through heavy lidded eyes.

“Good morning?” Harry tries, feeling the awkward silence of the room. 

Louis says nothing. Harry, eventually, has to pour his omelette mixture into the pan on the hob. He does so warily, but Louis doesn’t move. 

Using his favorite metal spatula that Liam constantly hints that he hates because he says it’ll damage the pans, Harry folds over half of the mixture into a neat omelette, plating it as he pours the rest of the eggy mixture for the second. 

Usually he makes Louis’ omelette second and adds some meat, but it would be awkward standing here eating one in front of him while he has nothing, so Harry turns and bends down, holding it out to him. 

Reflexively, his grip tightens, hand pulling back a little when Louis reaches for it. The scars of too many scratches littered across his hand flash through his memory. Louis notices. He pauses. But he takes it anyway, and inwardly Harry sighs in relief. 

He turns back and makes his own omelette. Louis eats in silence and he eats in silence. Harry says goodbye when he leaves and Louis continues to just look at him, which is a disconcerting end to a confusing morning but Harry will take it. The lack of open hostility.

— 

Louis watches him a lot. For a few days he seems to be everywhere Harry is. Sometimes he’s in the living room with Zayn or, if Zayn is speaking to Liam, he’s in the corner or in the kitchen or even laying in the hallway outside of Harry’s door. Harry supposes it wouldn’t be weird for a full fledged cat to do this, so he shouldn’t find it particularly unusual in a hybrid, but it’s given him a scare a few times walking out of his room and almost tripping over Louis.

But Louis hasn’t attacked him. He hasn’t scratched him or hissed at him or done anything at all. He’s just  _ been there. _ It’s new. It’s different. It’s confusing. 

It’s Friday night almost a full week after the incident, when Liam and Zayn are gone on their first official “date” and Harry and Louis are alone in the flat, after a dinner of curry takeout, when Louis finally speaks again. 

“Are you afraid of me?”

Harry honest to god jumps when he does. Which is probably not the best response to a question like that, but in his defense they’ve been watching Great British Bake Off with the volume very low.

Harry wracks his brain for the best way to answer because this feels like a trap. After all he… he  _ is _ afraid of Louis, isn’t he? He certainly was. This week has been odd, but has it changed anything? He’s not sure. 

“I don’t know,” is what Harry ends up saying.

“Were you?”

“Yes,” he answers, honestly. 

Louis stares at him, unblinking, in that terrible unnerving way of his. His ears are up straight, which means he’s not angry, although Harry feels a little bit like he’s being stalked, honed in on. 

“Will you take me back?” Louis asks, and Harry frowns. “Now that Liam and Zayn are dating. Zayn doesn’t need me anymore. Are you going to make me go back to  _ Welfare?” _

“Oh,” says Harry. “God, um. No. Never.” The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Why not?”

“Because.” Harry swallows. “You’re not just, like. You’re human. I mean, you’re not. Exactly. But you’re a person. And this is your home. If you want it to be, I mean. I’m not going to make you leave your home.”

“But you’re afraid of me.”

“I was,” Harry admits. The straightforward way Louis says things throws him off. “But I’m not. Mostly. And this is still your home.”

Louis nods, looking like he’s thinking this over. “Can I sit closer to you?”

Harry sucks in a breath, hopes it’s not too obvious. “Um. Sure.”

Louis gets up from where he had draped himself across a cushion stolen from the armchair and hops up on the couch. Harry didn’t realise that when Louis said  _ ‘closer’, _ what he meant was  _ ‘pressed up against Harry’s legs’ _ , and that familiar fear trickles back into him, but the  _ thwip-crack  _ is fainter in his mind and he concentrates on the color of Henry’s tie on the screen, and the croquembouche tower being built. 

He also concentrates on breathing. 

Louis’ hand rests against his ankle, and at some point Harry realises that it’s moving - kneading against his skin. It seems absentminded. Harry can’t concentrate on anything else for the rest of the episode.

— ० — 

Most cat hybrids are tribal. They have a group that they will ride or die for and everyone else can fuck off. 

Hybrids that have had bad experiences with homes in the past are tribal in the strictest sense, their going down to only one or two people. Only the ones they know they can trust above all others.

There was a time in Louis’ life when he thought he would only ever have Zayn. Zayn had been with him through their years in a home with little food and no freedom. They’d survived the worst together and made it through the other side, and Louis had vowed he would never trust another soul again. Humans weren’t shit and he knew it. 

But then one human - with lanky arms and large hands and fear in his eyes that maybe Louis recognized just a little bit - one human that Louis had worked so thoroughly to reject stood up for him literally and figuratively. And when Louis saw him on the ground, giving him an out, a chance to run for it that Louis was stupid enough not to take, he realised that maybe his tribe had one more person. Maybe Harry could be trusted. 

“Sleep with me tonight?” he asks Harry, absentmindedly kneading into his leg as they lay together on the couch. 

“Yeah?” Harry asks. “Are you sure?”

Louis nods. His ears twitch and he can practically hear the way Harry’s heartbeat picks up. It helps that he’s laying on against his chest. “Just to sleep,” he says. “Moving slow.”

“Of course,” Harry says. His heartbeat doesn’t settle down. It’s nice to feel wanted. 

Louis leads him by the wrist to his own room. Zayn has long since moved into Liam’s bed because he’s been sickeningly in love from day one, and while his own bed is still in Louis’ room, it's only use is for daytime catnaps.

Harry hasn’t been in Louis’ room before. It’s a  _ thing. _ His nest. His private space. But Harry’s shown time and time again that, of all the awful and terrible humans in the world, he isn’t one. So Louis brings him in and watches his face closely as he takes in Louis’ setup. The way his bed is shoved into the corner, made into an alcove with a bookcase dangerously backed up against the end of it, the heavy layering of almost every article of clothes Harry has ever given him onto the bed, shaped so that the sides are piled high with soft fabrics and the middle is just the right dip for louis to drape himself in the middle and feel enclosed by a fabric burrow.

“Is that my shirt?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” Louis says. He pulls Harry onto the bed. Harry is too long, really, but Louis is bossy. He shoves Harry about like a ragdoll until he’s partially buried between jumpers and leggings. 

“This is my hoodie,” Harry says weakly. 

“Not anymore,” Louis says. Satisfied, he lays down in front of Harry, backing up into him, his tail twitching against Harry’s calves. 

Nervously, gently, softly, Harry’s hand lands on his hip. Even after months of dating he’s still so unsure of his movements, like he’s afraid Louis will snap again. Louis knows now that he’s like this with all hybrids, but still. He needs to know Louis won’t.

“Cuddle me,” Louis demands, backing up into him a little more and twisting so they can look face to face. 

Harry is bright red, but he’s smiling, trying to hide it and looking like a frog. He wraps his hand around Louis’ middle.

“Better,” Louis says. He lands a kiss on Harry’s nose and turns back around, wrapping his hand around Harry’s bigger one. 

Harry presses a kiss into his hair. He probably says something sappy, but Louis’ not paying attention. Already, his eyes are half lidded, he’s beginning to purr. 

Harry is part of his tribe and that makes him safe. Louis regrets now ever making Harry feel unsafe, but he’ll make it up to him. They have their whole lives yet. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic post is [here](https://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/189046725929/just-want-to-be-loved-by-you), if you got to the end of this fic I love u very much pls love me


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